Scelestus
by Negare
Summary: Mirrorverse. The sequel to Libertus. This continues Paulie Gettys little adventure through the hell created by the Autobot Empire. Really not suitable for children and will become rather "unpleasant" in later chapters... more then usual.
1. Chapter 1

This story will be particularly "unpleasant" and definitely not suitable for children or those with delicate sensitivities.

Disclaimer: Me no owny Transformers.

**Scelestus**

(Criminal)

**Chapter One**

The small fire had once been part of a much more aggressive one that had reduced the decent sized city to ash. It'd ripped through rather quickly it appeared, and in some ways he was glad not to have witnessed it. Probably would have BBQed his arse. So, he sat there by this fire, watching it burn through what had once been a science text book for maybe a 16 year old student, of course in this day and age what a 16 year old 20 years ago would have been reading would now be common knowledge for an 8 year old, its how it seemed to him at least. Not that he had a lot of experience with children, but how they acted on TV he figured as much. It was something to contemplate upon as he sat by the fire.

Sitting by a fire.

Seemed so normal. So usual. So everyday. Something a free person would do on a cold winter's evening, or maybe on a warm summer's camping trip. Something sometime normal.

Normal.

He wasn't really sure where he was or what this city had once been, not that there was much left to discern. The surrounding suburbs and industrial areas were also reduced to smouldering cinders but those zones were surrounded by a few gentle hills. The larger part of the inferno had burnt out some time a few days ago and now only a few smaller sections still glowed randomly about the razed and charred rubble and debris. It was the same everywhere he'd passed by.

He lent back against a rock and stretched his legs out, wriggling his toes in his prison issue boots – fastened with Velcro. He stretched his arms out above his head and clasped his fists together. He reached down and picked the stick from the fire, wrapped around it were a series of juicy worms he'd taken a good twenty minutes to dig up. He used to eat worms when he was a child – well, according to his mother, how true it was he wasn't' sure, what he was sure of was he was starving and most would not thumb their noses up at a juicy worm if it meant survival. It was a little over done, the charcoal flavouring he wasn't sure whether it was caused by the fuel of the fire or the fire itself. Regardless, once he got over that burnt taste, it was actually rather palatable. Kind of like crackling from a pig. Crispy, greasy, and with a hint of fat. It didn't really have a lot of flavour, but it was warm and rather comforting.

Kinda normal.

He looked down at the small plastic cup he'd found, warped by a good deal of heat, but still holding its general shape, in it wriggle a few more of the worms. He contemplated having them as well, but after watching one of them squirm up the side he decided against. It could have only been a stroke of luck that he found them, he might not get anything like it again. So best to save the last three for his next meal or two, and if he found a couple more later on, well, great.

He lay down against the warm earth near his fire, back pressed to the rock and closed his eyes. The crackling of the flames through the unusual fuel was in his mind. There was no real evidence that those creatures had been active around this area, the fire seemed to have spread through from some other location. Of course, who knew? But there were no pot holes or giant blasted hunks of rocks, no humans crushed under what could have only been a massive foot, no mass graves or "camps" for captured beings of flesh. Yet, fire was merciless and did not forgive much, it could have ripped through anything those creatures left as a monument to their savagery and lack of respect for the dignity of life. All that really mattered to him now were they were not here now.

He wondered if he'd be able to get some sleep. He'd managed so far. He had no way of knowing how many days or weeks had passed since they made themselves known. No way of knowing how long it had been since he'd escaped. No way of knowing any of those things. He stretched one more time before re-curling, squeezing his eyes a little tighter together and hoping for sleep.

Sleep.

It was so normal.

When he woke, and he had no way of knowing when that was, his little fire had burnt itself out, there were of course other fires burning near by. He picked up his little cup of worms, still wriggling, but a little on the dry side, and he decided to continue his journey to wherever. He clambered up over a large section of wooden debris that had probably once been a house, amazingly spared from the flames. He wondered about the science behind it. He recalled a documentary on forest fires that mentioned how sometimes the flames would jump portions of land and fuel. A bush fire that tore through the surrounding flora behind some city in Australia was shown to have had this phenomenon, the aftermath, entire neighbourhoods reduced to cinders, but in amongst the smouldering soggy ash was a house standing untouched, unsigned and amazing safe – the fire having jumped right over it. Perhaps that was what happened here. Some robot knocked the place down and then the fires they started just ignored it. A sudden rush of nausea passed over him, he bent over and vomited. There really wasn't much in his stomach, the worms having passed through, but the fluids and bile weren't exactly pleasant. He vomited a second time, wiping the muck from his mouth he stood up right again, a little unsteady. A cool sensation riddled his body, within moments his body was ruthlessly hot, sweat beaded on his forehead and dribbled down the back of his neck. He dropped to his knees and continued to disgorge on the remains that were once someone's home, their pride and joy. Pain stabbed him in the abdomen; the gurgling that wobbled through his belly gave him a rather uncomfortable sense of foreboding. He stood upright, quickly unzipped his now filthy jumpsuit and squatted, the pain, gurgling and less then appeasing odours intensified into the mother of all loose motions. The lack of decent food, clean water, the exhaustion, pain and purging of numerous body fluids from both ends served to add to a rather distressing and serious decrease in his electrolytes. While never understanding the finer points of medicine or even the slightest whiff of a first aid course Gettys wouldn't have realised what those were or how harsh on the body vomiting and diarrhoea could be, however the feeling in his innards was less then favourable.

He staggered down the rubble, holding up his jump suit at the waist. Once his feet were on someone flat ground he began vomiting again. A sudden gush of concern passed through his mind, what if this was radiation poisoning? What if humanity had fired back with their most powerful weapons? What if radioactive ions floated about this area, tearing through his body? He recalled the class movies of films about "duck and cover". The mention of how gruesome radiation sickness was and the symptoms of such were strongly burned into this childhood mind to live with him throughout his life… on further re-think he remembered that the vomit and diarrhoea caused by radiation positioning was often stained with blood. The intensity of the sudden onset also gave him reason to question – if the radiation was so high as to cause such a rapid commence he surely would have seen the nuclear flash, or at the very least a mushroom cloud… and if he'd wandered through a ground zero or near enough to it there would be no piles of unburned debris. He'd barely eaten anything that it could be food poisoning… perhaps an insect bite? He gasped, perhaps a biological agent unleashed by those beasts? Another aspect to a multi-pronged attack? Regardless of what ever was the aetiology behind it certainly wasn't welcome. He vomited again, the stress of it aching his entire body especially the muscles in his abdomen as they responded to nerve impulses to push upwards and force the stinky acidic fluid content from his stomach. The man groaned, then laid himself down to try and rest, feeling his bowels begin to curdle again, he quickly got back up into his squatting position and away he went again. The movements, sudden, violent and aching taking his energy, but he surely didn't need to be walking around with his "givings" on the only item of clothing he currently possessed. Finally it finished for the moment and pulling his jumpsuit up he lay back down. Groaning, he clenched his teeth, wrapped his arms around his belly and closing his eyes tried to sleep, if only to forget about the pain and the stench that lay nearby in mucky puddles.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Paulie woke to found he'd lost control of his bowels during his sleep. He was in drenched in sweat and shivering. Obviously the cause of his recent eruptions had not subsided. He managed to sit up, the pain aching outwards up his back and down his legs. He vomited a few mouthfuls of bile on the ash covered ground next to him. A horrific piercing pain dug into his head and he fell backwards grabbing at his hair.

"Argh! Fuck! Shit!"

He rolled over slightly, writhing with discomfort as he felt something well from deep within him and start to ooze its way forcefully up into his mouth. He passed out.

To him at that point, he had no concept of time. He'd been in state of altered consciousness for at least three hours, but he was suddenly aware to the voices of humans.

"I think he's dead".

"He's not dead, idiot, he's just out of it, it he was dead he wouldn't' be breathing".

"If you guys plan to get that close then perhaps you'll help me get him up, we need to get the hell out of here before that tank thing decides to come back for round two. Don't worry buddy, we'll get you out of here and some place safe".

He was aware of the assistance.

"Eew, he pooped his pants!"

"Well, then take his pants off!"

"Give him that extra blanket, would you?"

He was now aware of his soiled jump suit being removed. Obviously so heavily soiled and dirtied by both his own contributions and the mess those creatures had made that the good Samaritans hadn't yet noticed the "Federal Prisoner" printed on the back in big black lettering. He was too tired to be paranoid or questioning of them, he let the sticky unconsciousness take him.

--

When he woke he thought he was back in the prison. The ceiling above him was a plain concrete and the room was dimly lit. He found strength to sit up and noticed two men and a woman sitting by a small gas powered cooker. There was a dented can resting on the top of it, its contents bubbling as it slowly cooked through. One of the men was reading something; the other man was peeling a carrot while the woman was breast feeding a small child, maybe three, four years old.

"How are you feeling?"

The woman asked when she noticed Paulie was awake and sitting up.

"Awful".

"Huh, well, the amount of vomit and shit you squeezed out I'm not surprised".

The man peeling said.

"Who are you people?"

He asked, it sounded rather defensive, but any ill intent in his tone of voice was not picked up, or brushed aside as nervousness or pain by his saviours.

"I'm Nick, that's Hank and the lady is Jaclyn".

The man pointed with the carrot he was peeling.

Paulie wasn't interested in their names, he was more interested in _who_ they were. He sighed, grabbing at his abdomen as he did so.

"Ryan".

He said, his cousin had married a man called Ryan and he'd stolen his identity, so it came naturally to him to use the man's name… and credit rating. Of course, he hadn't used it in about 20 years.

"So… Ryan, what'd you use to do… before all this?"

Jaclyn asked as she steadied the child at her breast.

"I'm a… I was a manger for a firm that sold technology to the US armed forces, jet engine technology, nuclear missile guidance systems, top secret stuff that'd get me a life sentence if I nattered about it to strangers. Of course, I'm sure none of that matters now".

That was somewhat true; Ryan had owned a company that sold tech to the US govt. That's what made Gettys laugh to himself at how stupid the whole system was that he could fake around the nation using the name of a man who was supposed to be checked by the authorities time and time again. If their marriage had survived the years he'd been in prison Ryan and his wife were probably dead.

"Wow. You're lucky to be alive then".

Nick added.

"Oh yeah, why's that?"

"Cos those things are killing the military, scientists, doctors, politicians, anyone who might have knowledge or training that could halt their little war machine has been targeted and killed".

Nick explained. He was a younger man, maybe in his mid 20s. His clothing was rather tattered but it was possibly that of a college or university student. Hank was maybe in his 50s, his clothing reminiscent of a business suit. Jaclyn was a woman in her 30s.

"What's the kid's name?"

He asked trying to change the subject.

"Dunno, we just found him wandering around a trashed zoo, amazing he didn't get eaten by something".

Jaclyn stated without looking up.

"He hasn't said a word since then, but he was more then happy to latch".

The woman replied still not looking up.

The criminal might not have been a good man but he sure as hell wasn't a big enough jerk to enquire why a 30 odd year old woman was able to breast feed, he decided best not to ask about families then.

"So… you feel up to some soup? Its certainly not something that the French will try to claim after all this but it'll fill up a hole".

Nick sliced the carrot into the can.

"Or you reckon you still pretty dodgy?"

He was implying Paulie's stomach and bowels no doubt. While the thought of something cooked in this dump didn't appeal to him, the idea that something warm would pass his lips was something that excited and his body's reaction of his mouth watering told him he could probably tolerate it.

He nodded in response.

"Where are we? What did this place used to be?"

Hank put down his reading material, it was the instructions for programming a VCR, it didn't even look like it was in English. Perhaps the man could read it, perhaps it was something to keep him from being annoyed for conversation, or perhaps it just made him feel normal, Gettys decided not to pry. He moved closer to the can. Jaclyn put the now sleeping child on the floor and she too came near, obviously hungry. Nick picked up some little paper cups that were filthy and a little warped from over use. He handed one to his companions, and being a good host, the one with in the best shape was handed over to Gettys. Next the young man picked up the can with a piece of ratty cloth and poured a small amount in to each cup. The warmth passed through the flimsy card and into the crim's hands. It was by far the best sensation he had ever had. It filled him with hope that maybe things might be okay, of course, the situation they were in was far from hopeful, but there was something about a hot cup of soup… or what was made to resemble soup. Gettys was so pleased to have something that was meant for human consumption that he didn't care his question went unanswered. He took a sip; the warmth was what made it so tasty. The soup had been made from about a quarter of a can of creamed corn, and the sliced carrot. The watery nature of the soup tasted a little burnt; the black specks floating in it told him that the water used was probably not filtered. Regardless, it was now his favourite dish. His companions sipped slowly at their share, like him, enjoying it greatly.

The criminal having finished his meal started to notice more about the surrounds, in particular what he was wearing. A dirty singlet which was ripped quite badly around the left arm pit and a pair of jeans that were just as dirty and just as ripped. A large tear ran from the knee down to the ankle and the dark stains around the knee area told him that someone had been wearing them when the gash took place. The zip was broken but the button kept the pants up and his dignity in check. The jeans were a little too big in the arse, though, but provided enough space in the front for his heavy belly. He was still in possession of his boots.

The walls were metal with planks of wood providing support. On closer inspection the ceiling wasn't concrete as he had initially thought upon waking, rather it was ply wood that was painted roughly. It gave the illusion of concrete, intentional or not he couldn't say. There were no windows as such, but a metal door. A bench was in the far corner of the room against the wall with a vice attached to it. There were a few tools, both for use in a garden and a workshop. Seemed he was in someone's garden shed.

Hank had put his reading material down, which he had turned over in his hands several times while Gettys watched, then the man lay down on the pile of sacks and rags they had collected for a bed. He closed his eyes and snuggled downwards into it.

"Night everyone, sleep well. Hope to wake to see you all in the morning".

"Night Hank".

Nick replied.

"Goodnight".

Jaclyn added.

"Yeah, thanks for everything".

Gettys added to be polite. Hank just grunted somewhat politely in response and rolled over the face the wall. Jaclyn looked over at the sleeping child and pulled a blanket up to the boy's chin for extra warmth, then she lay down behind him spooning him, her own blanket covering both of them.

"Guess that's a hint to get some shut eye".

Nick shrugged.

"What's outside?"

Gettys asked.

"Not a hell of a lot. If you want you can take a peek in the morning, just don't do it in the dark when we can't see what's out there, okay?"

Nick extinguished the small candle that burned on an upside down can then himself lay down, wrapping himself up in a large canvas tarp that had perhaps once covered a car. The majority of the small shed was taken by darkness, bar a small dot of light where there was still some spark in the wick. Not sure what else to do, and not wanting to get his new friends killed, Gettys, aka Ryan, lay down on his supply of rags and closed his eyes listening to the creaking of the metal walls.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Waking, Gettys was first aware of the hunger pangs that wracked through him. Obviously the illness had either run its course or his body was demanding more fuel to fight it. He did still feel a tad hint of nausea but nothing like what he'd recently suffered. The sticky chills and shakes of fever had passed and the altered state of awareness was no more. Sitting up he pushed the rags that passed as blanket from his legs and looked around the small shed. In the morning small pin stripes of light shone in through gaps in the metal, a larger chunk of light pushed its way through the key hole, while the gap under the door had been blocked with a stack of cardboard. Obviously intentional to try and stop any light they could produce being noticed from outside.

Paulie stood to stretch his legs and found the ceiling wasn't as high as it had appeared while he had lay on the floor. He walked to the door and peaked out through the keyhole, he found that completely useless. It was then he noticed the door had a glass window in it, it was covered with some black material that was tapped rather messily, obviously with some manner of haste, to the door so it draped down. He carefully peeled the corner up so he could get a better look out. What he saw wasn't anything more illuminating to him then what he was able to view through the keyhole. The glass in the window was filthy, and the muck seemed to be on the outside. He yawned, he must have gotten at least 8 hours, not including how long he'd been out of it. It was an odd situation to be in. Prison had made him comfortable in small enclosures. He was somewhat… what was the word… institutionalised…? So he felt a little awkward standing there wondering if he should go outside. Part of him wanted to get the hell out, to keep moving and not look back. His life had been spent taking advantage of others for his own gain – more so when he was incarcerated. These people had assisted him and now he wanted to get away from them while he was capable. They were the sort of group that'd hold him back and get him killed. If staying in a shed eating a quarter of a can of creamed corn watered down with some sliced carrot was what they wanted to do with their spare time and was how they thought they'd survive this then so be it, but Gettys was more realistic. It was quite sad really, these people had taken him in, cared for him, nursed him back to health, shared their food and their meagre comfort measures with him, and here he was contemplating leaving.

"It's a hell of a mess outside".

Nick sat up stretching his legs, the canvas rustling slightly. The young man stood up and walked over, taking care not to wake any of the others, especially the child who still slept. Nick opened the door. His action was so damn causal. They now stood in the overgrown back yard of a house. It was a normal everyday run of the mill house. The car was parked in the driveway in a peaceful normal way.

Normal.

The swing and slide set sat unused, a bit of rust growing up the sides. Looked like it hadn't been used in quite some time, possibly years. The children had probably out grown it. He could see into the window of one of the rooms, a bed room. Posters of handsome young men and beautiful women adorned the walls. Obviously movie stars and actors of the current day. Prison made a man out of touch with a lot of things. The bed had a pink spread over it, and a few stuffed toys, relics from the owner's childhood most likely. Gettys turned away from peering inwards, he felt uncomfortable about it, like he wasn't supposed to be here, that he was an invader. A strange emotion he realised for a criminal. Probably had the situation been different, if maybe he'd escaped on his own steam and was leading the cops across the country on a game of cat and mouse and he found himself in this yard staring in to this room he'd probably be considering breaking in, taking money, food, a change of clothes, maybe a hostage, taking the car. Possibly shooting or raping a few people just for the heck of it. A man has needs.

"You right there, Ryan?"

Nick touched him lightly on the shoulder as he watched Gettys staring intently at the house.

"Who used to live here?"

He asked suddenly.

"Dunno".

Nick shrugged.

"I found it a few weeks ago, its pretty quiet around here so thought I'd use it to our advantage".

"And your friends? What about them?"

"Before this, I never met them. I think I saw Jaclyn a few times but who knows. I ran into Hank a month back, about a week after they invaded. We met in some complex they'd slapped together to work us or kill us, I don't really wanna know which. But some other robots attacked and in the debacle we all just took off. I met up with Hank in a small town about two hours later".

"And Jaclyn, and the kid?"

"We met her about a week after; she was hiding in the basement of some rural church. Nice enough lady, but I think she was some serious mental issues going on, what's that thing, post disaster stress disorder or whatever? I think she had a young family, but I'm guessing they're dead given her emotional state. We met the kid, he didn't tell us anything, didn't speak a word, but Jaclyn took him under her wing and since she was still lactating the little kid was more then happy for a feed of milk".

"Do you guys have a plan?"

"Plan for what?"

"For this whole fucking pig sty? Are you going to sit around here eating half a can of corn between you a day until you either end up dead from starvation or found by one of those things? Or you going to try and move on?"

"Well, before Jackie and the kid Hank and me were only going to spend the colder months here then try and make it to the coast. I hear there are islands out there that those things aren't interested in because they're just too small a land mass".

"Riiight".

He was less then impressed.

"Look, man, you're welcome to take off; seriously, you don't owe us anything, no matter what you reckon. I'm sure you've helped your share of people and will probably help a lot more, so the universe will sill balance out and you won't get stung with some nasty karma. But to be honest, if you did leave, it'd be one less mouth for us to worry about".

"I ain't being rude to you, right? I'm just saying you should try to do something else, try to find some place a little less… ground level. Maybe look for a basement or something; you need more then a few cans of corn and saggy carrots".

Gettys knelt down and touched the ground, the heavy layer of ash and grit covered everything, the long grass that had pushed its way through had started to die and brown. The sky was a dusky colour of maroon and brown, and the neighbouring houses on both sides were destroyed, one crushed, the other burnt to a crisp, the house behind the property was also crushed, but the rubble significantly fire damaged. What had happened first, the collapse or the fire, he didn't know.

"Ryan, you're not the first guy to hang out with us. There was a few guys we met who like you, weren't too impressed with our line of thought and went off on their own somewhere. Its why Hank's been a little cold with you because he reckoned you'd take off before long after you recovered."

"But I thought he was happy to help… I remember him saying to help me when you guys found me".

Gettys mentioned.

"Oh, no, that wasn't Hank that was some other guy; he'd hung out with us for a few weeks and then left a few days before you regained a decent manner of consciousness. He said he was going to look for some food, never came back. As for what happened to the guy?"

Nick shrugged.

Gettys was even more confused now.

"Can't remember if I asked you, but what you use to do before… this?"

The crim motioned his hand gently about as he stood up.

"Me? I was a law student, two months off finishing! How rude is that? Guess there won't be much need for the law now, though… well, not human law at least?"

"Oh, I dunno… there's always a need for lawyers. Who's going to sue those things for emotional damage if there's no lawyers?"

Gettys was trying to make a joke but it sounded rather sarcastic and the young man ignored it.

"So you must know a lot about bombs and tech, right?"

"Huh…"

Gettys kind of laughed it out.

"Nah, maybe I did in my younger days, back 20, 30 years ago… back when knowing Morse code was actually useful but now, now I just push paper round a big desk".

The need for his lies continued, these people were nice enough but he didn't think they'd extend their hand to a murderer. Plus, it sounded like a good enough story. Back in the day… God, that made him feel old, back in the day those who started computer companies tended to know what they were doing when it came to RAM and CDs and all manner of computer shenanigans, now the reality was people needed a bit of business sense to survive, men with no computer experience could run these companies. They just had the savvy to find the geeky college students and high schoolers who spent too much time playing online games.

The apparent Ryan sighed.

"You right, man?"

Nick responded.

"Look, I just don't know. But I don't think that little crap shack is going to keep you guys warm, and milk and creamed corn aren't going to get you through".

"Well, you know where the gate is…"

"I know! I'm just… well, you're the first people I've seen in a long time and you could probably be the last people I see in a long while".

"So you don't want to depart our hospitality because you're worried you'll get lonely".

"You don't really know what it's like out there… by yourself. Doesn't matter how harsh it is, if you've got a companion with you, you can manage".

"Guess you're right. Well… you're welcome to stay with us till you figure out what you want".

There was a pause between them for a few minutes.

"I might take a look in those homes along the street; see if I can find any other food or something. There's gotta be some Nana's house with preserves in the pantry".

Nick shrugged, not sure if he liked the idea of a man rummaging around abandoned homes, just in case something noticed them, and then noticed the little human camp.

Gettys turned and walked to the front of the house along the driveway. The other young man watched for a few moments, sighed, shrugged and jogged to catch up.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

They walked in silence up the street, deep in thought as they took in the somewhat damaged surrounds. The area was a lot better off then some of the other places Gettys had trasped through. It seemed like the majority of damaged had been caused by people fleeing. A few cars lay tangled together. Obviously driving skills and respect for such laws had gone out the window when the word of giant robots attacking the nearby city reached these people. A few of the houses were burnt out; the discovery of an up turned car in the living room of one of the structures had possibly caused the slight inferno. Lawns and gardens were overgrown and scruffy, broken letterboxes and a few smashed windows could possibly indicate some hooligans taking advantage of the lack of parental supervision. A stray dog came running out of a house and sprinted across the road with something hanging from its mouth. Its sudden action gave the two men a hell of a fright, but they maintained their composure.

"Nice to know something else is alive around here".

Nick grunted.

"Well, if you guys ever feel like some meat…"

"Ew".

The criminal just laughed.

"Can't be picky now, son".

He added as they walked up to the intersection.

They stood in the centre of the cross roads and looked in the direction of the city, it was a massive advertisement to the destructive force of those beasts. The fires seemed to have burnt out but smoke still lingered, of course it could have been the ash and dust drifting on the gentle winds. Down the street in the other direction was a small shopping centre that seemed to have avoided any negative attention.

"Hey! I've never noticed that before!"

Nick said referring to the centre.

"Let's go check it out, might have something other then corn".

"Yeah, maybe we can find some beans".

Nicks humour was obviously out of practice or not intended to be found amusing by the older man… generation gap perhaps?

The two walked again in silence towards the relatively tiny mall.

It appeared that when things got dicey it hadn't been open or was quickly shut. Heavy metal chain shutters were pulled down over the main entrance and some larger display windows.

"Aw crap, guess we're not going to be eating dog food tonight".

Nick grunted, Gettys inwardly annoyed at his willingness to give up.

"There's always a way in. Come on, son, and learn something no professor in a plush university can teach".

Nick watched as the older man took off in a gentle jog along the wall towards the back loading dock, the man looked almost… excited.

And he was. Last time Gettys had a chance to break into something even remotely interesting was when he put a shank through the back of the head of a guard and then broke into the warden's office. It was completely not worth it, as the office held nothing of any interest, and the murder of the guard would have given him another life sentence if it wasn't for the fact there were no witnesses and the shank had the prints of another crook who'd already attacked that particular guard. Gettys might have been in prison but he wasn't in any mood to extend that time!

Gettys found a stack of boxes leaning against a rubbish skip that sat up against the wall of the building. About half a metre above the top of the skip was a window. It was so retarded, who ever had put that there, needed a kick in the arse. Any crim with 2 picks to his name could break in through that entrance. Nick was quite impressed with the energy Gettys seemed to have as he leapt up on to the top of the skip and started jimmying at the window.

"Ah… what about the alarms?"

Nick asked.

"Alarms? The grid's been down for _how _long? And no offence but this little shit hole town doesn't look like the type where the mall would have its own back up generator to run the alarms".

Gettys chuckled amused at the criminal ignorance of this young man… of course; he was 2 months from graduating with a law degree. Mind you, Gettys had met his share of lawyers who were more crocked then he was, and that was saying a lot!

He laughed again as the window gave and he found himself staring into the dank stock room of one of the mall's shops.

"Get up here, son and gis a boast in".

The crim turned and spoke down to the young man.

Nick hopped up onto the skip and peered down into the dark.

"No offence old man, but I doubt your ankles could withstand the drop from this height, let me go and then I'll find a door for you to get in through".

Gettys agreed with the student and gave him a boast up through the window.

Nick swore loudly as he landed on his arse. Granted, he'd dropped onto a stack of collapsed boxes which cushioned his fall absorbing some of the force.

"You right kid?"

Gettys called down.

"No sweat, Ryan. I think I can see a door, just give me a minute".


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The young boy, nameless and probably family-less ran through the mall like a… well, a kid in a toy shop. He was grabbing at trucks and small plastic guys, a throng of army men were pulled down and suddenly he found the Lego display.

"Holy shit that is one happy kid!"

Hank said, his voice almost sounding… happy.

"Haha, yeah, guess its like all his Christmases have come at once!"

Nick laughed.

"Forget a few chunks of coloured plastic; have you guys seen the speciality food store? A 200 dollar jar of marmalade! I would never have guessed such a small town would sell such a prissy… OH MY GOSH! Caviar!!"

"Guess crime does pay!"

Nick smiled as he stuffed a handful of gummy bears into his mouth.

"Ease up on that sugar, son, don't want to rot your teeth!"

"Hah, you sound just like my mum; my parents never let me have gummies!"

"You guys ever seen that Simpson's ep with that gummy lady?"

Jaclyn interrupted a mouth full of sturgeon's eggs.

"Hahah! Yeah! The gummy de milo! I love that one!"

Nick laughed.

"OH MY GOD!"

Jaclyn suddenly squealed.

"GUCCI SHOES!!"

She dropped her fish egg covered square of feta on a tooth pick and rushed to the shoe shop.

"OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD!"

She screamed with uncontrolled delight, her voice echoing through the high ceilings of the mall that'd been shut for so long.

"I can't believe it! OH! And they're in my size!!"

"Speaking of Christmases coming all at once!"

Hank laughed as he shook his head slightly.

Gettys walked along the hall outside a series of shops that were nicely decorated for the season. He eyed up a series of decorations outside one particular shop that was selling hand crafted novelty items for the holiday. Each one was flawed in its own way; it was charming really, to see items similar but not all the same. He may have been a murderer and a gangster but he did appreciate when someone wasn't won by overt commercialism. His mother had always hand made their decorations for the seasons, whether it was Easter, Christmas or Thanksgiving everything was crafted from scratch – it was cheaper and gave the children something to do in the days they were off school. He sighed as he continued to stare into something that reminded him of the better moments in his childhood.

The shops were so neat. Other then the disruption their invasion had caused, the mall showed no evidence of being tampered with. There was nothing that displayed looting or fear driven humans looking for somewhere to hide, something to eat. An offshoot behind the one so festively decorated revealed itself to be a gun shop, and like everywhere else – untouched. He walked in through the doors. He couldn't' remember the last time he'd been in a gun shop. Usually he'd gotten his weaponry through other means. He realised the need for these things, not to fight off largely metallic beasts but to discourage any wayward survivors of flesh trying to take something he might have that they might want.

He took several boxes of ammunition along with a few of the larger guns. A shotgun, magnum and desert eagle grabbed his attention. He had to be reasonable; he couldn't haul every firearm out of this place. Not sure if he could trust his companions he decided to not inform them of his find, he gave contemplation to returning later to raid the rest of the treasures and then hide it elsewhere.

When the criminal using the name Ryan reappeared to his companions he found them sitting around gorging themselves on feta cheese and a mix of almonds and macadamia nuts.

"Hah, don't eat too much of that – its probably too rich for you guys to keep it down given your recent diet!"

The criminal laughed as he sat down on the rug and helped himself to a handful of salted peanuts. He enjoyed the taste as he chewed them, and the pasty sensation it left in his mouth after he swallowed. He reached his finger into his mouth and scrapped the tasty gunk from the back of his teeth before licking it off and swallowing it.

"Man, that's good!"

Gettys hadn't had peanuts in over 20 years. They'd been banned from his prison not because of some con having an allergy, rather, a rather savvy crim had found a way to fashion them into a rather unpleasant weapon which resulted in the deaths of three guards and two other inmates. This happened before he arrived in the gaol.

The young boy was more enthused about the large jar of jelly beans and was happily playing with a Lego plane while feasting on the sweets.

"Man, if his parents ever found out about this, they'd kill us!"

Jaclyn chuckled as she opened her mouth for a spoonful of that over priced marmalade.

Their mood was so jovial no one pointed out the glaringly obvious. Even if they thought it, they each in their own way inwardly decided to not bring it up, the rich foods and the apparently safe environment kept them happy for just a few moments. Gettys realised, as they all probably did, that they needed this. For the sake of their sanity. It wasn't every day you found yourself the survivor of an alien robot invasion, where said alien robots had essentially instigated a programme genocide and enslavement. He sat there eating another handful of nuts.

"You know what I really want?"

He picked another handful.

Their looks told him to continue. Hank smiled.

"Smoked ham on the bone".

"Oh yeah! I had that once it was awesome!"

Nick piped up.

"Really? I knew you could smoke chicken and fish, but ham?"

Jaclyn replied.

"Absolutely. Its quite big in Australia apparently".

Hank added.

"You ever been down there?"

Jaclyn asked.

"Nah, but my wife's sister lives down there with her husband – he works for the American embassy".

"Neat".

The woman replied.

"I wanted to work for embassy but guess I don't have to worry about printing out my CV now".

Nick almost chuckled.

"Anyway, these nuts are awesome".

Jaclyn quickly changed the subject back to food, which was most welcome.

"There's some fruit in that bunch".

Hank added pointing at a packet of mixed nuts and other fruits.

Gettys picked up the container and found a mix of dried fruits strewn throughout. Dried apricots, apples and cranberries were a relaxing advertisement of colour amongst the light brown.

"Hmm, I think we better save some of this stuff, God only knows when we might see a stash like this again".

Nick noted.

"Are we going to take it back to the shed?"

The woman asked.

"Maybe we should look for a safer place to try and wait this out. Maybe find a basement or something".

Hank pointed out.

"It sounds safer then the shed".

Gettys pointed out.

"I think there's a book store on Oxford Road which has a large basement room. It's been closed a few months… well, a few months before this mess began".

Nick replied.

"Okay, how about Nick and I head over to this store and check it out, you guys stay here with the little tyke".

The criminal chewed another mouthful of peanuts before standing.

"We should go now while there's still a level of light out".

Nick nodded quite happy in some way to be doing something other then stuffing his face on food they could desperately need in a few months.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"So… what did you do before you became the boss of a company selling bombs and such to the government?"

Nick asked suddenly as they veered into a park, obviously a short cut thought the crim.

"It was a different time back then, kid; we took the reigns a lot earlier then when your generation grow some balls".

"Seriously? I might be a bit of a mooch at times but I didn't come down in the last shower".

Nick didn't seem impressed.

"Nick, I'm tired, are you really going to piss about with making me guess what it is you're on about?"

"I'm on about what you really do, who you really are?"

Gettys went quiet for a moment and started ahead, his gaze uncomfortable.

"Hey, we're in a situation where honesty is really important. And seriously, whatever the hell you used to do, does it really mean anything now? We have more to worry about then who you pissed off or what you did to mess up your life".

The young man was perhaps had a few more street smarts then the criminal had given him cred for. Gettys sighed, his shoulders drooping momentarily; he rubbed his balding head and looked over at the young man as he paused his walk.

"Fine, you want the truth? I've been in the cage since 86".

"Prison?"

"Slammer, clink, con-college, stony lonesome, bucket, big house, cooler, brig…"

"Okay, okay, I get it; you have a raft of slang terms for the place".

The silence suddenly engulfed them and both men were aware of the wind rustling through the remaining leaves on the trees. Amazingly there was quite a bit of plant life that had not been damaged.

"So… now that I know are you going to kill me and dump my body in the bushes?"

"I dunno, should I?"

"Well, why were in you prison… _Ryan_? If that's even your real name. I mean, some people can get 20 years for embezzlement, theft, drug offences… what you did? Is it worth our concern?"

"Okay, let me clear a few things up. My name isn't Ryan, and if you're a law student you might have read my case so I'll be damned if I tell you who I really am. Second, there's no point in telling the others – especially if Hank thinks I'd take off, I don't need you guys getting all paranoid and thinking I'll slaughter you all in your sleep".

He paused.

"Oh and you really need to understand given the circumstances I don't think my past should be… bothersome".

"You're saying I should just pretend I never brought this up? That I should ignore you are some kind of criminal!"

"What do you want me to do then? Do you want me to tell you I'm a murderer? That I probably would have spent the rest of my days in that hole? That I've been denied parole multiple times? To put fear in your heart? Do you want to know who I really am? What I really did? Lawyer in two months you may have been, but you have a lot to learn about human nature!"

"I want to know if I should feel safe! IF the others are safe! Those creatures are risk enough to my health as it is, I don't want to go to sleep with one eye open because I fear you might end it all for us!"

"I didn't kill… _innocent _people. I didn't just take out people randomly, certainly no women or kids or old men! Just people who owed me money and ratted my plans out to the cops".

"What? Were you like some kind of gangster?"

"Pretty much".

Nick sighed and sat down on one of the park benches. He rested his head on his hands as his elbows sat upon his knees.

Gettys lent next to a larger tree. A few bugs were scuttling about the bark, going about their bug business, obviously some life was still continuing as normal. How long these creatures would go on he couldn't guess. History had taught though, that chances are whatever those creatures unleashed, eventually life, in some form, would continue on this rock. He realised his thought was taking time. Nick was looking at him.

"Just as a matter of interest, what gave me away?"

Nick looked up.

"Honestly?"

He replied. Gettys nodded. The young man laughed quietly and shook his head with some manner of bemusement.

"Your boots".

"What?"

"Your boots. They're prison issue. From the federal pen near here".

"That's quite a random fact for a law student".

Gettys pointed out.

"Actually, my dad's up there… or he was".

"Really? What's he in for?"

"Huh! You expect me to tell you that when you will only give me a half answer?"

"Alright, I'll tell you if you tell me".

Gettys slid down the bark so he was sitting on the ground.

"His name was Maurice Armour or Mort, he molested my sister and then killed my mum when she found out. I grew up with my grandparents, but they died when I was in my last year of highschool".

"And the state let you continue on your own?"

"It happened a few months before my 18th and social services said there was no point dumping me on some foster family for a few months".

"How'd you put yourself through law school?"

"My grandparents left me a good deal of money and assets. My mother was the only child they had so they had plenty of finances to support me".

"You got a lot?"

"Of money?"

"Yeah… sorry. Heh, it's the con in me speaking".

"Yeah… well… I did, guess I can't exactly make a withdrawal now".

"I was just going to say… hehe".

"Enough for the rest of my life, actually".

"Your grandparents didn't want it for some charity or something?"

"Nah, well, if they did they never told me about it and they never changed their will. I guess they might have adjusted it when I was old enough to not need support".

"How'd they die?"

"Long, complicated and tragic story".

"Well, what else can we use our time for if not for long, complicated and tragic stories?"

"Guess you're right there. Might be nice to talk about something tragic that doesn't involve those damn machines. Anyway, long story short… my grandparents went to a café. One of the staff had been fired recently for something and he was out for revenge, so he put some kind of poison into the salt shakers. My grandparents were big fans of salt and within hours both were dead from multiple organ failure".

"Holy shit".

Even Gettys found that nasty.

"Them, and 7 other people. Two kids under 10… don't know why they're parents would let kids that young have salt, but I guess they were some family of fatties or something".

"What happened to the guy?"

"Got the chair".

"He was Mexican, so obviously there wasn't a great push for any decent appeal system".

"Really? You'd think those hippy types would be all over a Spic facing the racism of the cracker system".

"Get no argument from me… however two of the dead were the twin daughters of the head lawyer for the local ACLU. Guess the guy couldn't separate his personal and his professional".

"Don't blame the guy".

"How many people did you take out?"

Nick suddenly asked swinging the conversation back.

"Well, to be fair the law could only pin one on me".

"Sounds about right, mind you, you get a life sentence for one murder, and when you've only got one life to live sort of defeats the purpose if you're given three or four".

"Guess that's why they have the death penalty".

"How'd you not get that?"

"The prosecution wanted me alive in case I had a change of heart a few years later and decided to rat out my… colleagues".

"Okay… come on… tell me, who are you really?"

Nick craned his neck and glanced over at Gettys.

"There's no real reason for secrecy now, is there? I won't tell the others".

Gettys contemplated this logic for a few moments, shrugged and decided to just tell the boy. If he didn't react favourably then he'd just depart and leave them to their own caviar, Gucchi wearing, baby sitting devices.

"Paulie Gettys, at your service".

He reached out a hand.

Nick shook, but for a moment he had to think… the name was familiar but from where…

"The gangster from New York?"

He clicked.

"We did cover your case files when we were talking about RICO".

"RICO… man, that took down a lot of people. It was badly applied in most cases, but a lot of my buddies were seriously burned by that".

"Do you think you would have ever gotten out?"

"Nah… I'm an old man, Nick, but even with a few too many pounds, a bit of build up on the arteries and angina they would never have let me out. And to be honest, today's brand of criminal is very different to what I was used to. There was some kind of honour back then, now with so many punks doing hard drugs; they're a bit fucked in the head. There's no concept of respect to other crooks. Besides, you live in jail for so long… you reply on it, on the routine of things".

"And now here you are, sitting in a park with an almost lawyer, during an alien robot invasion talking about your prison reliance".

"And your murderous father".

"You ever meet him?"

"I had heard of a Marty or Morty who was a child molester… but no offence, kid, guys like that weren't respected and they certainly didn't travel well in my immediate circle… well, not if I could help it. Though, I did hang out occasionally with a paedophile, he was older then me and well… when you get to my age on the inside you take your friends where you can find them".

"Guess the old adage of "beggars can't be choosers" really does apply".

"That's exactly the point, kiddo. You get older and older in those places and you have to shake any hint of self-righteousness".

"You know, I always found it kind of strange that thieves and murderers could have the gall to point out the flaws of another crim. Honesty, they don't really have much of a right to judge someone else who's in the boat… well… cage".

"Anyway… guess we should get a move on, otherwise Hank and co. might start freaking out that we're dead or something".

"Probably think we took off, since if we were dead they'd have heard it".

Nick stood from the seat and then offered the crim a hand to pull him up to his feet.

"You got a girl, Nick… well… did you?"

"Ah, the ex-prisoner mentality of wanting to talk about girls".

"Hahah, yeah, something like that!"

"Actually, I'm gay. Although, I told the others I had a girl just to keep them calm. Hank strikes me as the… un-enlightened kind".

"You shouldn't have told me that… I could use that against you!"

The crim giggled uncharacteristically and winked at the young man.

"Well, you told me something and so I had to return the favour".

"Your father molesting your sis and killing your mum is a pretty big something to tell".

"True, but like I said about Hank, he'd probably find being gay even worse then murder".

"Maybe he is gay?"

"Maybe. But he's got a wife and two kids, showed me their pictures in his wallet… which he lost in our last run for our lives situation".

"When did you run into them last?"

"Oh ages ago now… its kinda hard to keep tabs on the time line, you know? But we saw one a few days before we found you. A tank thing. That was not pleasant".

"What about when this first happened?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

The book shop was rather quaint. It didn't really look like a shop, more like a house that was a little more open to the public. OF course the "closing down sale, 80% off everything" sign plastered over the biggest front window indicated it was not someone's family home.

Of course, it could have been intended as such. Who knew what the plans for this place were.

"The people who owned the place were providing to a niche market which has been a little waning of late. Anyway, my boyfriend would go in here a lot and talk to them apparently they wanted to start an organic farm".

"Just wanted a change, huh?"

"Well, that's one version. The other was the recession hit them hard and they just couldn't absorb the costs anymore. They were haemorrhaging money".

"Probably a whole raft of reasons".

Gettys said thoughtfully.

It was of the Federal style of housing, two stories tall painted white with blue grey painted shutters. It was well cared for and obviously the previous occupants had taken some manner of maintenance regularly. The grass was overgrown and the garden looked like it was in desperate need of weeding. The pathway leading from the road to the door was one of cobblestones and looked quite pleasant. A large tree occupied the left corner of the front lawn which was surrounded by a white picket fence, its leaves had dropped and were now soggy from previous rains and blackened with the ash and soot from human cities and human lives.

"There's a key round the back… or there used to be".

Nick said as started towards the back of the home slash shop.

"Your boyfriend's knowledge?"

"Yeah".

"Will it even be there after they've shut up shop?"

"Dunno, it's worth a look, and if it isn't there, well, you're the great Paulie Gettys I'm sure you won't find some old colonial home any problem".

"Federal".

"What?"

"It's a federal style of house. Colonial is slightly different, but I can see how you'd get them muddled".

"What the fuck? How would you know shit like that?"

"One of my girlfriends was a wannabe architect, so I had to sit there and listen to her natter on about housing designs… waitasec… you're gay, how can you not know?"

"Hahahah! You don't know a lot about gays, do you? Not all of us know fashion, food or frivolity!"

"Hah, I suppose you're right! Just as long as you don't' think all ex-cons drop soaps in shower".

Sure enough the key was around the back. It was in a dried out bird fountain, the soggy leaves and mess of ash and soot made a rather unpleasant strew. Gettys was rather impressed at gay as he plunged his hand into the foulness to fish around. A few moments later Nick held up the small key attached to plastic pompom. It might have been a florescent pink, once.

Nick wiped the muck off the key's teeth and inserted it into the lock. It took a few moments to find its niche and then finally with a good wriggle and a flick of the wrist it turned in the lock. The door swung open as if the house was on a slight angle. The two men walked inside.

There was a few large boxes in the hall way near the door stacked up to the ceiling. The light shades had been removed from the fixtures in the hall and placed on the top of a few of the boxes. The contents of the boxes weren't identified by any writing on the sides, but "fragile" and "this side up, please" were written in big green lettering. Nick shut and locked the door behind him.

"So did they live here as well?"

"I'm not sure; they might have crashed here occasionally. But I think it was used as a halfway house for gay men with AIDs in the 80s".

"Please tell me that's not how your boyfriend came to know about this place".

It came out not sounding like the joke Gettys had intended it to be, but Nick seemed to ignore it as a tactless comment or didn't hear it at all, he didn't respond regardless.

The interior was rather plain, no carpet and a simple off white or "pearl" wall paper. The front room they soon found themselves in was obviously where the book shop had been, as the heavy shelves had left imprints on the faded carpet. A few shelves remained up against the walls with a few sheets of random paper. Gettys had no want or reason to check if there was anything on them. There were a few side rooms off the lounge that had probably also been used for books.

"I think it's off the main bedroom".

"You think?"

"I've never actually been here, my boyfriend would go on and on about it because he thought basements were awesome".

"Strange guy".

"He was".

Nick sighed, a hint of love in his voice as he obviously reminisced inwardly about the man he had lost.

"How long were you two together?"

"Since I was 19. So 5 years. We were going to go up to Canada in December and get married on Christmas day".

"Christmas day? I've never heard of anyone getting married then".

"Yeah, nor had either of us. But Ricky was a diehard atheist and thought the best way to stick it to the Christians was to marry on one of their holy days".

"Heh, really? What did you think about that?"

"Honestly? I was little offended".

"Really? Why the hell's that?"

"Because I spent my entire gay life just wanting people to respect my way of life, or at the very least allow it without offending or attacking me, and here I was letting my boy want to get married on a day that's sacred to so many – just to attack their way of life and morals".

"Ahhh, makes sense. Did you tell Ricky that?"

"Oh, he knew! But he let me have things he didn't really like".

"Such as?"

"Well, my grandparents were Catholic, and I have this beautiful image of the Madonna that belonged to my grandmother's grandmother – she had bought it over from Ireland when they came, it had been handpainted by her uncle who was a bishop in the region they lived in".

"You still follow a doctrine of faith, or have any beliefs of your own?"

"Truthfully?"

"If you can't be honest now, after an alien robot invasion then when can you?"

"Strangely I did have some belief in a deity, but now I have to wonder… I mean, if the Judo-Christian-Islam god is the reality then why would he allow this? And in those religions they generally preach that there is no alien life, and that God is supposed to be the best and all that… I just don't know anymore"

"Sounds rather thoughtful of you".

"What about you? Don't cons have a habit of finding…"

He went silent suddenly. It was an unsettling action that in the current climate was definitely not welcome.

"What?"

The crook asked.

"Nothing… I thought I heard some…"

He paused again, his demeanour indicating he was straining to hear something.

"Let's find the basement".

The crim whispered.

"I think its through here…"

"Yeah, you've said".

The crim followed the young man through the house, trying to decipher if the kid was hearing things or if in his elderly state he was not hearing things. Regardless, it was probably the situation where it was best to err on the side of caution.

They were passing the bathroom when Nick felt himself pushed to the floor.

"What?!"

He screeched a little too loudly.

The crim panicked and put his hand over the young man's mouth.

"Ssssh".

He whispered.

"Outside".

He added.

There was an unnatural rumbling from outside. It started out as a series of solid bangs which were spaced rather evenly, however, as the sounds got louder the gap between the bangs became shorter. Gettys wondered if this was the end. Nick was equally mortified at the prospect of his possibly approaching death. He lay still under the large man unwilling to move for fear of discovery. The criminal felt the same fear eat into his core.

The footsteps of the alien robot continued along the side of the house. There was no whack to the house, no laser blast, no profanity uttered in a foreign tongue. The footsteps soon became distanced and the creature who had at one stage been running seemed to have returned to a normal pace, and gradually the sound disappeared into the suburbs. The two continued to lie there, both fearful of that monster's return. They said nothing; the only sound was the light wheeze of Getty's heavy breathing, hopefully not loud enough that the machine could pick it up through the walls.

"I think its gone".

Nick said a few moments later, his breath fogging up on the wooden floor.

"Yeah".

"Oh god, the others, they could be really loud".

"Or they could be dead, and that creature has just left them".

"Yeah… maybe, but you'd think we would have heard that".

"Okay, I'll get down to the basement and you head back to the mall".

"What the fuck? Are you crazy! I'm not going out there!"

"Well, someone has to, and I've got a got 40 years on you son".

"So! You're an ex-con! If you couldn't pull that flabby arse of your's around you wouldn't have lasted this long".

"Yah don't know how prison works, do you?"

Nick had given his comment as a joke and wondered if his tone hadn't expressed it, but Gettys understood his intentions and found it somewhat amusing.

"One of us has to go".

Gettys added.

"You have more street smarts then me, not to mention you've been out in the real world at the moment with these creatures, you know what they're capable of".

"Hey, hey, none of that bullshit. You have seen their ability as much as I have, you were just lucky enough to not be smack bang in the middle of it".

"Well… what do you want me to say! I've been sheltered since pretty much day one… well, maybe since day three, but regardless, I can't just walk out there and head back to the mall, not with those creatures running around! And on top of all that, I have to lead those others back here. I can't convince them to leave the mall, the safety, the food and get to come back here".

"If you didn't think you could convince them to come why did you come here with me now? They obviously know damn well what the point of this little mission is! And you know this area better then I do! I could lead them down a different road, take a wrong turn, I'm more likely to lead them straight to those damn things, not back here".

Gettys explained further.

Nick sighed, he was confused and anxious. Part of him had at first been joking, enjoying the somewhat friendly banter, it made a nice change from listening to Jaclyn cry herself to sleep when she thought no one was listening. When the child sat in the corner of their little shed and just rocked. When Hank would roll his eyes at the slightest hint of a suggestion about moving on, about human civilisation continuing on. The conversation now had taken a very serious turn. It was a serious subject. What Gettys was asking, what Nick knew had to be done… it was serious. Deadly so.

The young man inhaled and exhaled deeply. His shoulders rose slowly as he hung his head before his whole upper torso slumped somewhat. Avoiding eye contact with his criminally inclined fellow he accepted his purpose in this little "outing" and groaned irritably as an indication of acceptance.

"Alright".

He added, just in case the old man hadn't picked up on his somewhat defeated body language.

"If I knew my way around, was 20 years younger and 20 kilos lighter I'd do it no questions asked".

"What if we both went?"

"Nick. You have to do this. Okay? Grow up, son; this isn't the time to be a pussy. Those things aren't here to be our friends. They're not going to suddenly up and change their minds and send us a box of chocolates and some apology flowers. They're here to wipe us out. Okay? I've seen them up close and personal laying down the extinction on our flabby little species. If you don't' get over your fears now, you'll end up in one of our mass graves or one of their incinerators".

The criminal really didn't feel in the mood to be giving counselling sessions to this kid, but hopefully what he had said had given the young man enough of a good emotional kick up the jacksy*.

"Okay, okay. Ah… I guess I should show you where the basement is"

"Yeah good idea. I might even take a look around the house and the neighbours see if I can find some blankets and a few other supplies, so just you and the others bring the foods".

Nick seemed placated by the fact that Gettys would also be venturing out into the dangerous area. He didn't say anything more and simply led the ex-con to where he remembered his partner saying the basement was.

It was simply a door that looked like it could be a wardrobe. It led off the main bedroom through a small walk in closet. There was another door what when opened revealed a downward staircase. Nick didn't descend; he turned and gave a temporary farewell to his companion and without further words left to return to the mall. Gettys walked down the creaky steps with a small torch he'd found on a shelf in the closet.

* Jacksy – a friend pointed out that not every person on the planet has heard this slang term. Jacksy means arse.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

The basement was rather cluttered with large boxes and a range of aged suitcases. A large antique wooden box sat at the bottom of a huge stack of items that was essentially rubbish. The scene caved into it, well, the part he could see, looked like it was the charge of the light brigade. A few rows of horses were depicted marching along into a valley which at the top of were cannons firing downwards at the men. Badly engraved bodies lay in a haphazard pile near the front of the column. A coating of dust sat in the groves of the chiselled lines that made up the images. A heavy padlock sat rusting away in the latch. It was actually a rather pleasant looking piece of wood. Maybe it was worth something. It looked old, it seemed undamaged, but regardless of any value it could have achieved, it certainly wasn't going to happen now. Of course there was the remote possibility that some alien species of a kinder disposition would research the fallen human civilisation and this box could end up in one of their museums stared at by their children who would perhaps be guided by teachers to wonder who had made the box and for what purpose?

Gettys was curious about the contents of the other boxes. In all likelihood it was probably just books and what not that were sitting down here waiting to be moved, or perhaps some old lady owned the house before it became a store and when she died instead of getting rid of her possessions they ended up boxed and down here. Who knew? Gettys would have looked through them but was concerned that perhaps any activity on his part to invade the privacy of some dead old nana could alert those creatures to his location.

Maybe he'd investigate later.

Gettys rested his back against the wall and closed his eyes, turning the small light off.

He felt somewhat reassured being in a small dark concrete room with no windows and one heavy door. Reminded him of the prison that not so long ago he'd been trapped in. Although, there was a feeling of unease knowing that a large two story building sat atop of his current location, if something realised he was here or just felt like smashing a building he'd probably be crushed – not exactly how he wanted to go out. Of course he could end up with trapped beneath the building's remains, slowly starving to death or expiring from thirst wasn't' exactly the most appealing of fates. Gettys felt tired. He wasn't sure if it was the poor quality of oxygen in this hole, the sheer excitement of an alien invasion was going to take its toll at some point, and was probably doing so now… not to mention the emotional deeps he'd had with Nick had knacked him out as well. He lay down on his side, bunched under his head a ratty and faded towel that had been covering a box of old National Geographic magazines and he went to sleep.

Of course there was absolutely no way to tell how long he'd been in the land of nod. As the heightened senses of consciousness took him he became acutely aware of the dripping of a near by source of water. It was refreshing at first, sort of a drip drip drip of normality.

Normal.

It was the sort of sound someone might lye away at night listening too. Warm in their bed, the covers pulled right up to their chin. The clock in the dark of the room giving only a glimmer of time as the digits flicked to the next minute. So damn normal.

Gettys rubbed the back of his head, a pang of somewhat mild discomfort, a small crusty blip of dried blood was on his scalp – he then realised that a staple from one of the magazines had scratched him during his rest. It seemed like such a minor wound that he gave no further thought to it as he sat up. He rubbed his hands together when the chill of the basement embraced him. Something crawled over his leg. He was a man who wasn't bothered by creepy crawlies or any of the sort of things that would make most cringe so he ignored it. Plus, it was further evidence to him that life would continue in some form on this orb of mud… unless those steel beasts had some super weapon which would explode the planet. Their final insult to humanity, the complete and utter destruction of a world they'd already raped beyond measure not enough for them – they'd have to ensure that no one in any form of alien life would ever be able to walk earth's green fields, or gaze upon its vast blue oceans or fly some amazing alien craft over its towering peaks. If they couldn't have it, no one would. And if they didn't want it, well, then no one else could have its stinking, rotting remains. These fucks obviously didn't play well with others or know how to share.

Prison had taught him quite a few things, one in particular was how to guess time, Lord knows he had enough of it to count. In his experience he felt as if he'd been sitting there for a good 30 minutes. His aching bones and sore muscles encouraged him to stand and move about. He gave consideration to heading over to the neighbours' houses to see what he could find that might provide him with a meal. The others weren't here yet and there was no telling what they'd bring with them, the sheer example of their gluttony had concerned him. Sure, he'd eaten some of the more "fancy" items, and he'd kept quiet on his opinion that they should focus on the healthier foods and of rationing them.

Anything, he thought, would be better then sitting down in that hole. He stood outside the house and walked cautiously around to the front of the building and stared across the street at the neighbours before looking at the other homes. The neighbour's seemed the best bet, he was able to identify silver beat growing in the front garden, that stuff was prolific and would grow with the minimalist of interventions or intentions, but if it was intentional perhaps there would be other veges out back. The thought of fresh vegetables enticed him to move faster, but didn't cause him to loose his caution. He clambered over the fence and found himself between a row of trees and the neighbour's single story abode. It wasn't well cared for, what he could see of it at least. The paint was peeling in most places, the window panes weren't fixed securely and there was rot around the door. He walked along the side, taking the occasional glance inside through the dirty windows; he noted the curtains had been pulled.

A chill moved up his spine as he stood in the back yard and noticed how well the grounds had been kept. The grass was clipped short, the garden weeded so only the flowers grew, the veges looked almost ready to harvest. The large willow tree that sat next to the house and another tree he didn't know the name off sat in the far corner, their massive branches and leaves sheltering most of the back yard from the ash and debris that had fallen from the destroyed cities. There was a large clear tarp pulled across several large polls that rose from the ground, while the plastic sheet was somewhat dirtied by the falling muck, it had provided adequate protection, and still allowed what few sun rays that penetrated the dim skies to reach the plants below. A few patches in the yard were evidence to photosynthesis being interrupted.

Obviously people dwelt in this house, or at least near enough to care for the garden so regularly. The ex-con half expected whoever to suddenly show themselves brandishing a shot gun and ready to add his blasted form to the fertiliser. But no one exposed themselves. Gettys walked over to the large shed, it had the capacity to hold two cars, had a sleep out slash office and a space for tools and a work desk. Gettys peered in through the dusty window and noted it looked rather recently used. Dust and ash from the devastation had settled on the bear parts of the building, but the door handle was clean, evidence of recent use. He inwardly doubted that Nick had rushed over here, done the lawns and was now sleeping in the shed to try and avoid going back to the mall. Gettys tried the handle and found it was locked securely. He had nothing on him that he could use to pick the lock and decided against it, his curiosity so fleeting as not to warrant an attempt at B and E'ing at this point. He walked around the edge of the shed and found a green house built up against it. The door was unlocked but he felt really wrong about entering. It was the first time in perhaps his entire life where he actually thought about not entering, where he felt… guilty. Gettys could see large, generously portioned tomatoes growing on very green vines, had he not been so filled with the foods from the mall he would have very easily entered and taken those red, luscious orbs, perhaps even destroying the rest of the crop if only to irritate or harm the emotional stability of the make shift farmers.

Gettys decided to leave the property and head over to the Mall, perhaps after meeting up with the others they could discuss this property and whether they should perhaps station someone here to wait for the growers to return. Of course there was the issue that perhaps the growers were dead – maybe the reason Nick hadn't returned yet was due to him running into something that had killed all of them. Or perhaps Nick had met up with the growers and they were sitting in the Mall right now feasting on feta and fish eggs. Who knew? Standing around here thinking about it wasn't going to lead him to any revelation.

The entrance into the Mall they had been using showed no sign of interference, there was no evidence of any robot attack or anything concerning, but something kept the man from approaching. He had managed to find his way into a building across the street which had a good view of the shopping facility. Something didn't feel right; something was really, really wrong. Something was not normal. Gettys felt that ill feeling reach down into the pit of his stomach and twist it around a few times before squeezing it tightly. He wondered if the sensation would lead to him throwing up as it really didn't sit right with him. But there was no outward sign of any interruption, perhaps all of this had led to paranoia. He sighed softly as he stood at the door that would lead out onto the roof. He wondered if it would get him noticed by something with much better eye sight then his own, but if it would earn him a better view, then so be it. He opened the door with the keys he'd found on the counter top and walked out onto the roof. Even seeing from that view nothing untoward about the Mall, he still couldn't shake that sick feeling. He walked along the edge of the building's roof peering down at the street below and across to the Mall, still nothing.

There was an old wooden pew from a church which he sat upon, next to it a small outside metal table with an ashtray on it and a few worn coffee mugs, covered in ash and a bit of water in the bottom of each, it might have been left over coffee or tea though, he wasn't going to try drinking any to find out. The ash covered his pants and he wondered about the logic of parking his arse there. He sat there contemplating his options. There as no sign of those things, none whatsoever. Chances were that had those things shown up and done some damage there'd be evidence of it. With that logic he decided to just bite the bullet and go down there and check it out. Sitting up here while the day slowly whittled away wasn't going to help, and it wouldn't be a good choice to go walking around a mall in the pitch of night.

Gettys found the door into the mall open, with a good deal of caution he entered. There was no further proof of any interruption by robotic beings… so why couldn't he shake from his mind that feeling that thought, that concern. He inwardly chastised himself for being… cowardly… He stood still, shook his body physically and brushed himself with his hands, hoping the actual exercise would metaphorically remove the doubt and concern. Once inside he found the place as he had last seen it. He began the walk through the stock room towards where they had feasted and conversed.

Rubbing his eyes, the darkness coupled with the dust he had disturbed caused them to ache, he pushed the door open. He heard something. He wasn't sure what he'd heard, but he knew it was something. It wasn't robotic… it sounded organic, but not in a good way… which sounded slightly strange when he thought that through. He'd given consideration to meeting other humans, finding other animals alive, anything that indicated normality from a life he'd once had and would never have again. The sound came to him again; he tried to identify it and slowly walked toward it, quietly at first while he attempted to focus on it further. To concentrate it on further. Gettys rounded a few shelves full of items that were of no real use to any survivors who might have stumbled upon it. The criminal now found himself close to the sounds; he peered around the corner and witnessed something that chilled his blood.

Jaclyn was lying there, dead, her throat slit, her hands bound with stockings and held above her head by rigor. Her body was devoid of any cloth, and blood oozed from between her legs. She had been raped. Hank was deceased nearby, well, his arms lay nearby… his legs were being flayed and butchered into pieces that resembled steaks by two young men. The expressions on their blood splattered faces were devoid of any remnants of human mercy or compassion; their eyes were dark and focussed on their morose task at hand. The child, or his remains, were a few metres away, on plates, on dishes, in hands. The criminal suddenly noticed what he hadn't before… the smell. He'd become so accustomed to the stench of death, of dying, of suffering and of complete and unadulterated destruction that while in the mall he hadn't noticed the sweet aroma that wafted throughout. The small fire they'd used to cook the young boy was barely smouldering; obviously they were more interested in the feast they had made for themselves then the risk of grabbing the attention of something metallic. There were three others sitting there, each looking more focussed on the remains of the child that they were eating then paying any attention on those who could discover them. Gettys, shocked beyond words could allow him to express, decided it was best to get the hell out of here. He gave a quick thought to the suffering his new "friends" would have experienced in their last moments, especially Jaclyn, and he then carefully edged his way back towards his entrance.

He walked backwards, making sure each step was so slow, deliberate and cautious that he could prevent any noise or knock before it transpired. As he backed away from those that could devour him, he noticed Nick sitting there behind a pile of designer cushions. The criminal reached down and covered Nick's mouth with his hand, last thing he needed was the young man screaming when discovered by a possible saviour. Nick seemed so shocked he made no noise, and his eyes turned to the man and when seeing it was someone known to him he calmed. Gettys pulled him slightly in an indication that he wanted the younger to stand. The two crept from the mall that now served as a reminded to the true brutality and animalistic nature of humanity.

Once outside, the two men broke out into a quick run, heading in a direction that would take them away from the building.

"Holy fuck, man!"

Was all Nick could stammer.

"Shut your hole and run, boy!"

Gettys spluttered, surprised at how he was able to speak so clearly while pushing his overweight form.

Eventually they found themselves at the junction of an industrial area and the beginnings of charred farmland. Gettys hadn't seen this part of the town before, or even of the region.

"Where are we?"

He asked, gasping, he stopped and lent down, his hands on his knees.

"Ah… we're on… the main industrial zone that leads out towards the… interstate".

"So, this is probably the last place we want to hang around, given those creatures have a tendency to attack our cities and industry".

Gettys sighed, resting his hands on his head as he looked up at the gritty sky.

"Yeah, but we can't go back… those people… they… after what they did…. How the fuck could they, man? They ate a little kid! Ryan was just a little kid! And they killed him! They fucking killed a child, man!"

"Okay, Nick, calm yourself down, last thing you need or I need is you panicking and grabbing someone's attention".

The criminal replied, not having any patience for those who couldn't' control themselves in such situations.

"I think our best bet is to head back into the suburbs, find some place to spend the night, then tomorrow get out. Reality is, though, those people are probably not some freakish minority. I found a house near the old book shop that had veges in the back yard and looked like it was cared for… could belong to them and they went out to expand their diet, or it could just belong to a group of vegans who are no out on a field trip, but at this point, we can't take any major risks".

The older man grumbled. The young man simply nodded and agreed. Both of them turned and walked back slowly towards some unknown destination where they could rest.


End file.
